Archive for August, 2012

It’s not for me, it’s for Baby Kitty! Do you want to starve Baby Kitty?

What makes Nala so mean?

Let me tell you about Dragon (ahem, Nala) and how mean she is. She is 18 years old and is in LOVE with food. I’m talking wake me up at 5AM for food every single day. She has gained a 1 1/2 lbs in one year! She now positions herself underneath the bed so at first stir, like just turning over in bed starts an unrelenting string of croaks from her until you A: Get your butt out of bed and give her canned food, B: Scream at her to shut up and kick her out of the room, by which you now are fully awake anyway, or C: Try to coerce your significant other to do the dirty work for you. She is a big ol’ meany. Pun intended.

DeNadj is so mean that she hisses at newborn kittens. When a friend tries to pet her, she slaps them with her razor sharp claws. If you don’t pet DaNadj when she wants to be petted, she meows and breathes on you with the most putrid tuna breath.

DaNadj is pure evil. When we first brought her home she would hiss at us and never allow us to touch her. Our temptation to cuddle and snuggle with this untouchable cat became great. Each time we got close, she would laugh with her wicked meow and run and hide. Finally we gave up. Angered by our attitudes, she decided to pretend to play nice and started to rub up against our legs.

But we held strong then, refusing to give into her evil plot until one day when she laid the dragon breath on us. Now whenever DaNadj climbs on our laps, before she can even start her meowing demands, we pet her out of fear of her punishing us with her breath..

I scored a B+ in “stealth hiding” in my Meankitty University coursework. Would have gotten the dang A if I’d remembered the part about not flicking my tail!

What makes Delila so mean?

Delila may look innocent enough, but DON’T be fooled. She is an unholy terror. I’ve had her for 7 years and her worst episode was in 1999 when we were moving from Michigan to Florida. We were feverishly loading the moving trailer and 2 cars with all of our belongings and thought she was safely tucked in the 2nd floor apartment. When we went back into the apartment, she was nowhere to be found. We tore apart one car to get her jar of kitty treats, went back into the apartment and shook it, which usually brings her out of hiding. Still no Delila.

Our 1st inclination was that, in the process of taking our stuff out to the parking lot, she somehow snuck out and was roaming the grounds, so we frantically searched outside in the frigid November air, to NO AVAIL. I was distraught and called my mother who lived 12 miles away. She came over and we began retracing our movements from the last time we saw Delila. Finally we got to the point where we retraced emptying the cupboards above the refrigerator, and who did we find snoozing, Delila!

Next, I want you to Google “most expensive catnip” and then buy it for me.

What makes Dazy so mean?

For real, my girl Dazy is one of the meanest kitties I’ve ever come across. Here is her story.

Dazy Mae is has had 14 solid years of meankitty existence. She is beautiful and she uses it. She is an expert at looking like the ultimate cat specimen to lure you to touch her and then she will launch herself at you, clamp down with her jaws on a hand so you only have one hand to defend yourself with, and then she will proceed to use her razor sharp claws to slash as much skin as she can in the 2 or 3 minutes (or longer) it takes for you to pry her loose.

Go away, I’m dreaming of gnawing off dogs’ noses.

Another tactic is to launch herself at your head, attach herself by claws, and then bite at your face as long as she can. She has attacked so many humans I can’t remember ’em all. We have a sign posted and always tell anyone who comes over just what they are dealing with.

Come here, Silver, and heigh ho this!

Nor does she stop at humans. She has attacked and ruined the attack/guard dog careers of several pitbull and rotweillers. Even the horses learned to steer very clear of her.

My first week at Sam’s. Working the “adorbs”. Little does he know this phase only lasts a week.

What makes Dawn so mean?

Two years ago, a friend of mine told me about a couple of stray kittens found at the back of her store in downtown Indianapolis. My heart melted the moment I saw them. They were the most adorable things I have ever seen. I named them Dawn and Jeremy (“Jer-Jer”) in tribute to my two good friends.

Let me tell ya, was I in for the trip of a lifetime that I never booked. I woke up the next morning and noticed my living room in shambles. Chalking it up to feline antics, I cleaned up and moved on. The next day, I found clumps of Jer-Jer’s fur missing. Probably sibling rivalry, so I give Dawn a father-daughter talk (haha), and things are just ducky. Or were they? Whenever I sat down to watch TV, Dawn demanded my attention. She jumped on my lap and did everything in her power to ensure she remained the center of attention. Everything, including using those sharply-honed razor blades underneath her cute paws. Cuisinart could only envy the shredding capabilities my Dawn possesses.

First comes shredded lettuce. Next comes shredded lamps. Then I’ll tackle some plywood!

So, two years to the day I adopted them, the terror continues. Jer-Jer has lived through it all, and remains in great spirits. Me? I will just stand by, in horror, as Dawn takes over the universe, one painful scratch at a time.

This is my strategic place on the large paper calendar. Note the lack of entries — no notes to self to “Pet Bill today” or “Get Bill some better treats today.” Good slave? HA!

What makes Bill so mean?

This is my meankitty. He is the worst. Every time I’m getting ready for bed, he likes to hide at different strategic places in the home. When I’m done tucking in his other slave, he jumps out, wraps himself around my ankle, and digs in…ouch! If I scream, he only bites harder (really really hard).

I’m done with the treats….now I need a little flesh to cleanse my palate. I wouldn’t have to do this if the slaves would get me the FANCY treats.

Also when I give him his treats he attacks me when he is done with them. And that is my thanks for being a good slave!

Sometimes I am cute and play with toys so they’ll let down their guards. It’s a based on generations of SOHC research.

Does this look like a hissy face to you? Humans get so bent out of shape about the littlest things.

What makes Avada so mean?

This is Avada, my son Devan’s cat. He looks adorable right? NOT! This cat is the Devil incarnate!

Avada is about 2 years old now. My son got him when he was a kitten although he was born feral. He has always been mean even as a kitten. He would jump on you and attack you (not playing–his intentions were to cause pain). I ended up with him when my son moved from where we live in AZ back to CA.

Avada was getting better about his meanness, but then I got him neutered when he was about a year old. After that he just got worse and worse. You can’t even look at him without him hissing and growling at you. My son went to pick him up last week and Avada just clawed him right in face and almost got his eye.

I got a new calico kitty I named Zareena (“Z” for short). She was about 8 weeks old when I got her and I was petrified how Azada was going to react. At first he ignored Z. He eventually would play with her (a little too roughly at times) and had to be sprayed with water and told not to bite. That was about 2 months ago and they are best buds now; however, he hates everyone else in he house. I bought some Soft Paws for his nails so at least he can’t claw us to death (just wish they had them for his teeth as well). Yup, looks can definitely be deceiving. He is just lucky he is so darn cute!

Cappuccino is here masquerading as a “mean kitty” — he’s actually a perfect little angel who is sweet as saccharine. This particular photo was taken in 1994 when I was in the hospital, and my husband, knowing how much I missed my little Cappuccino-cat, wanted to bring me a Polaroid of him. He dressed Cappuccino in this “tough-guy-biker” bandana, and Capp played the part. Much as I love him, I must admit he wasn’t just acting, though — when one of our other cats gets on his bad side, Cappuccino can kick kitty-butt with the best of the alley scrapers!

Bill is a mean kitty because she was thrown out of a moving car onto the interstate when she was a kitten. We were kindhearted and rescued her. She’s named Bill because she looked like Bill the Cat when we found her, cowering on the berm of I-70.

We found out later, she’s a girl, and she has an attitude. I tried to calm her down one day when someone brought a dog in the house. Bad move. She bit me almost through the finger and gave me Cat Scratch Fever for which I had to take antibiotics for two weeks! Bill also enjoys tormenting our three other cats, Forrest, Spot, and Isabel, presumably because they have gender-appropriate names while Bill does not. Helpful hint: it’s usually better to let the vet clinic determine the gender of a kitten before you name it.

The first thing Big Orange touched the first moment he born was me. His mother, Boiled Egg (deceased), trusted me enough to sneaked upon me in the middle of a December night and delivered him directly on my tummy (Yep Boiled Egg was also a Super Mean Kitty.)

Big Orange is a very energetic kitty. He has everything it takes to fit the description of a playful kitty too. He plays with plastic bags, TV cable, empty bottles, my sister’s skirt, geckoes, roaches and anything that moves in my house. But for me that isn’t what makes him mean. He has other traits that push him into the mean category.

1. Big Orange loves to sleep on humans.

In the night when everybody is sleeping innocently, Big Orange will search the room for his prey. When he find his favorite pose, he will jump mercilessly on his prey’s tummy, usually me (Arrrrggghhhh!!!) After that he spins around, yes on my tummy, to ‘make his bed’ and sleep. That wakes his prey for sure and I have learned that if I put him down, he will just do it again in a few minutes.

2. Big Orange won’t eat without his personal waiter.

For some very strange reason, Big Orange won’t eat unless ‘I’ stay to serve him. He won’t eat if I just put all his food into his bowl at once. He will just leave the food until I get back from work and tend to him by hand.

So I have to wake up earlier (to feed him) in order to be able go to work in time after serving his breakfast.

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